Leave Her Hanging: A Noir Thriller

Chapter Twenty-One

I’d visited the University a few times before: once for a Course Advice day where they try to convince you that their university can kick all the other universities’ butts and a couple of times just wandering around with Ella and the rest. Students strode back and forth over the grounds, making their way from the library to the student commons to the lecture theatres and back again. Most were dressed in t-shirts or tank tops and shorts, headphones plugged into their ears. I was suddenly glad I wasn’t wandering around in my school uniform, but the monkey suit I’d worn to the funeral wasn’t much better. I shoved the tie in my pocket, untucked my shirt, and messed up my hair so I didn’t stick out quite so much.

I stood near the bus stop on Symonds Street for a few minutes, watching everyone moving around, trying to work out what my plan was. Malcolm Barker would probably be a short way down the hill at the Business School, but that didn’t help me much. Too many students, too many places to look. I checked my watch. Quarter to one. I got an idea. I turned away from the Business School and made for the student commons.

The doors slid open for me as I hurried along the bottom floor of the Kate Edgar building. I dodged a group of older guys chatting by the entrance, went past the tables full of students studying and talking and watching Gossip Girl on their laptops, and strode into the computer room.

Every row of computers in the long room was packed to bursting. I weaved my way along the rows, growing accustomed to the constant babble of talk, until I found a likely candidate. I rolled a chair over from an out of order computer and planted myself next to a guy with glasses and a face the shape of a cake dish. A copy of Law in Business & Government in New Zealand sat unopened next to the computer he was using. He was so busy checking out his Powerpoint slides on the screen he didn’t notice me until I spoke.

“Hey,” I said.

The guy started and turned to me. “Hey,” he said uncertainly.

“I was wondering if you could help me with something.” I gave him my best smile. “I don’t go to uni here, but I’ve got a mate who does who I’m supposed to meet up with. Except my phone’s died and I’ve got no way to get in contact with him.”

The guy nodded slowly. He looked young, probably a first year. “Okay.”

“He’s at the Business School, third year Commercial Law. Is there some way to check the course list online and see where his lectures are?”

The guy thought for a minute, then nodded again. He was starting to loosen up. “Yeah, sure. You just go onto the Student Services page, same way you enrol in courses. It’s got the rooms for each lecture listed.”

“Great.”

“You don’t have, like, a login?”

I shrugged, shook my head, and did my best impersonation of someone looking sheepish.

“Do you know what courses he’s taking?” he asked.

“Uh….”

The guy grinned and spun back to face the computer. “I’ll have a look what the recommended course list is.”

The guy—Owen, he said his name was—went through the uni site, found the course list, then logged into Student Services and plugged the course codes in. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

A few minutes later, Owen turned the screen towards me and showed me the results for the class search. “Business Structures for Enterprises is finishing at like one o’clock.”

I checked my watch again. “Crap. I’m gonna have to run to catch him. Down at the Business School?”

“No.” He pointed to the screen. “Library basement. You know where that is? Just over there at the General Library, through the main doors and take the stairs down to the right.”